


Use Me

by EnsorcelledReader



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Lovers, slave for a month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsorcelledReader/pseuds/EnsorcelledReader
Summary: Jake English, a rich boy with a procrastination habit gets in over his head when he agrees to become a stranger's slave, in exchange for an good score on his dream college's entrance exam.





	1. I've Made a Serious Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> My new short story! I was going to wait until I had finished the whole thing (I’m about half way through now, but I’m terribly impatient. I’m going to just try to delay myself more and more with each story. Until I can finish and edit the whole thing before the urge to share it is overwhelming.
> 
> I’m going to aim to post once a week. These updates will be shorter than the other stories and the story itself will be shorter as well. The goal is for the writing to be better and the plot to feel well thought out.
> 
> This is a critique piece. Feel free to criticize my word usage, characters, plotting, literally anything you don’t like. The smallest detail it doesn’t matter.

I tremble clutching my messenger bag against my crotch, desperate to hide my shame. I’m sweaty and tense with an overwhelming pleasure buzzing inside me. I should have never cheated, never agreed to this. I could have avoided this humiliating situation. The cold bar I hold onto for balance in this is growing warm with my own body heat. My gasps and pants were horribly difficult to contain. I’m going to cum. I should have never cheated to get into that school.


	2. The biggest mistake of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only time I'll update more than once a week. I'm only doing it because the first chapter was so short. Remember that critiques are encouraged. Tell me anything you see wrong with my writing. Something I forgot to mention is that, unlike my other fics, I'll be actively editing the story as it goes based on your feedback. I want this it be a well crafted story.

It all started during the college application process. I procrastinated until there was only one date left for testing. My school of choice didn’t accept SAT scores, you needed to take their specialized exam, one that was supposed to be harder than anything you’ve ever taken before. Of course, as is my habit, I hadn’t studied a god damned thing. Honestly, it’s a wonder that I have a 4.0 when my time management is so poor.

 I remember standing in the quad, looking at the magnificent old buildings, fantasizing about becoming a prodigy in the archeology program. The only thing I ever study on my own. I thought about the trips to Egypt and Macchu Picchu. I thought about myself among like-minded peers.

I probably stood there staring off into space, like I had just had my first hit of weed, for some time. When I finally remembered what I was there for, I had fifteen minutes to check-in and no time for even the barest prep. The books in my backpack weighed heavily on my shoulder. My one bit of preparation was useless against my perpetually unfocused mind. My legs shook beneath me. My fantasies and dreams became washed out in my mind, before shattering and draining into black hole of failure. I was a sitting duck.

A hunter, with me in his sights appeared by my side, he threw his arm around me like we were old pals. A cheeky smirk on his lips as he asked. “You look nervous. You here for the entrance exam?” I lost any level of grace I ever had, only nodding dumbly as his smile widened and I noticed his eyes for the first time. They were like sunrise and fireflies, at least that’s what I thought at the time. Now I know their true color, the glow of the fires of hell. “I can help you, if you want, but it’ll cost you.” I gave him a suspicious look. “You don’t have much time here bud, I know the proctor of the exam, I can take it for you.”

I should have listened to my instincts. I should have made a run for it and taken the test. If I failed at least I’d still have my dignity. Instead, all I could think of was that idealized future and the future pulling away from me. “What’ll it cost?” I asked him. The glimmer in his eye was that of a devil, but I didn’t care.

“Two hundred to bribe the proctor and you have to be my slave for a month.” Slave? I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was a ghastly deal that no one with half a brain would ever take. The two hundred wasn’t hard, he knew it wasn’t the hard part. I had trust-fund-baby written on my forehead. To be subservient to someone else, he could make me do anything, and would. Am I really willing to sign myself over to him?

“Tick tock, even I can’t get in there once it’s started. If you want to take this deal, I need a decision now.”

I was never very good at making decisions under pressure. “Okay.” I scrambled for my wallet and gave him my ID and the money.

“You may regret this, but you’ll get in. I promise, money back guarantee.” He winked at me, and I’m ashamed to say I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. He was gone in an instant, taking off to the exam building. His run was athletic and he was fast, I wondered if he was on the track team.  It was only after a few moments of reflection that I realized I would need my ID back.

I raced over to the building, but as I approached the doors I feared that I would only draw attention to myself and possibly ruin my chances of getting in anywhere; academic integrity and all that. Instead, I hid and paced, vigilantly watching the door for hours, waiting for the test to end. It was the only time in my life I didn’t notice the cold.


	3. My Regret

He was the first one out. I rushed up to him, our eyes met and he smiled, handing me my ID back. “I don’t expect you to take my word for it, I can wait until you get your results next month. I’m going to hold you to our deal, okay? Don’t you dare chicken out on me. I can get around the trouble of taking the exam for you, you’ll probably have a hard time getting into any college if this is made public.” He winked at me as he walked away. I chose not to chase him, simply stood there, watching him walk away.

His jeans were pretty loose fitting, but his shirt and hoodie were tight. I could see his muscles through his shirt. The way he walked with confidence, like he owned the place, was both infuriating and oddly mesmerizing to watch. The setting sun of the brisk late January afternoon hit his hair with a dazzling light that made him look ethereal. Was he an angel of grace? One that freed me of my worries, or a fallen angel that would drag me to the depths of despair? I would later learn it to be the latter. In that moment though, I was enthralled by him… and terrified.

I took the subway home, feeling like I didn’t deserve the luxuries given to me by life. I always detested liars and cheats, that day I proved I was one. I found it ill-suiting to my personality. A heavy weight pressed firm on my shoulders during my entire trip. The world looked bleak and a startling worry clenched my chest. Nothing could ease it. By the time I arrived home, I vowed that I would never do something so dishonest again.

My parents didn’t notice. They just wanted to know how well I thought I had done. I said little and they reminded me that as their only child, I was to lead the family into the future, which means going to a top college. Grandma scolded them, brought me cookies and sent me to my room. It’s embarrassing to say that at eighteen I need that. I needed to be treated like a child with all my worries in the hands of capable adults. I was supposed to be an adult now.

Jane, a dear friend, called me that evening. I spilled my guts out to her. Another reason to never lie again, I couldn’t keep a secret. She was disappointed…and disgusted. The only time I’ve heard from her since was when she walked home with me the following day. She told me she wouldn’t tell anyone. I believed her, she was always the type to keep her word. And as far as I know, she still hasn’t told anyone. She also told me she didn’t want to associate with me anymore. She was convinced I would get caught, she couldn’t get dragged down with me. I understand, of course, I would have done the same thing. Still, I miss her.

I spent the next month alone and in a near constant state of panic. Grandma went on vacation only two days after the test, no one else pays much attention.


	4. Unexpected Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on my blog a week ago and forgot to post it here! You guys will have this, plus another chapter later today.

I finally received the notification email a month later. My scores were in. With trembling hands, I typed in the password, impatient to read the results.

….I passed. Not only did I pass, I scored in the 99th percentile. I was in, an early admissions banner scrolled across my screen. I was in, guaranteed. I honestly thought I would feel some relief, knowing that I would get into the college my parents wanted. A good education from a good school, it was mine for the taking. Instead, I just felt empty. That is, until I realized I would have to be a stranger’s slave for a month. The weight of what I had done fully kicked in that moment at my computer. I, Jake English, heir to the great English estate, had lowered myself to be someone’s slave. The laughable stupidity hit me. None of this was even needed. My parents probably would have paid to get me in there. There was never anything to worry about. Now there was. I could buy my way into a school, I couldn’t buy my way out of a scandal. Actually, I thought maybe I could, but I had no way of getting in contact with the guy. He knew where I lived, he knew my name, and he knew the school I was desperate to get into. He would find me.

I could barely study the rest of semester. I spent hours trying to track down that guy through the student database on the college website. Nothing. When my thoughts weren’t on what he could do to me socially….they were on what he could do to me sexually. He was such a buff guy. Just my fucking type. I thought about him holding me down, how big he would feel inside me. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also looking for a picture of him too…help me in my weaker moments.

Now that I think about it, there was something thrilling, know that he had dirt on me; knowing he could ruin me. I wondered what he would think if I told him the type of life I lead.

At the end of April, shooting season started. I haven’t competed in the hunting tournaments since Jane and I became friends, she’s very much an animal rights activist. Even now that we’re not friends, it feels like it’s encoded in my personality now. Not that dad cares. He heard about Jane and I having a falling out.  He knew her influence over me, he was hoping I was mad at her. Soon, he was in my room, happy as a clam to tell me that he signed me up for the annual hunt in his social club. Even before I met Jane I hated that fucking thing. I didn’t mind shooting animals, but the annual hunt is nothing short of a brutal massacre.

He still made me go.

I was forced to march around a mostly open field with a wooded parameter and aim at defenseless, caged in animals. I never shot thing, not purposefully. To feign effort, I would pull the trigger, but aim away from the animal, more to scare it off than anything else. Unfortunately, few people actually had the skill to use a weapon, not to mention the amount of booze the men drank. Some idiot shot me in my left shoulder. It hurt like hell, I scrambled out of there, fight or flight in full force I ended up bumping into another drunkard and his poor fifteen-year-old son. The kid was white as a sheet, but at least he had his phone on him. His father on the other hand, in a belligerent drunken stupor, pointed his gun at me, his son pushed it a way in time for the shot to hit a nearby deer.

The employees helped me into the lounge area. I could hear the commotion around me. It was probably the most disorienting time of my life. Everything was a blur, four thousand voices echoed in my ears. One of the employees carried me to a clear area and there was a serene moment where I felt like I was floating. I wasn’t scared or disoriented anymore. All my worry was gone, consciousness was fading, the pain receded. The last thing I remember before passing out was the guy handing me to the paramedics. They laid me on the stretcher and as I looked back, as the door closed, I saw the person. Their clothes were covered in blood.

It was him.


	5. I want him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, next part! The story is nearing its halfway point!

I didn’t wake up until the next day. There were a ton of ornate flowers in my room, the biggest from the guy who shot me. Those weren’t what caught my attention. It was the flowers on my bedside table. The smallest of any by a longshot. And the flowers were cheap daisies with a few yellow roses in the mix. My family must have not been in yet, my mother hated daisies. I always found them oddly comforting. A card peaked out from the bouquet. Grabbing it with my right hand, I opened it.

_Don’t forget our deal._

_-Dirk_

I threw it in the trash. He knew everything. Normally I would have been terrified, however the amount of oxycodone I had been given made it impossible to worry. Death himself could have standing in front of me, with a saw and told me he was going to claim my dick before my life and I would have been just fine with it. I’m actually surprised I didn’t say anything to my parents, I was so loopy.

I spent the next few months healing, slowly coming off the medication with the weight of my future on my shoulders.

I don’t really remember my graduation. It was a blur of loud teenagers, flashing cameras, and words that no one ever really means. There was an after party, but I didn’t go. Instead I went to the club with my dad. The drive was silent, his eyes wandered to me every so often, like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. I think he was wondering what the hell was going on with me. Or maybe it was guilt…

When we reached the club, I went to lounge while he went to play cards with his friends. I pretended I was there to go over my college plans in peace. No one ever used the lounge unless there was a big event.

 None of the preparation paper work was filled and it wasn’t going to get filled. I was there to see him. To thank him. To sign a month of my life over to him. When the only server in the room came over, I asked for Dirk. He was working that night, a stroke of luck, or maybe fate.

When he entered the room…he was prettier than I remember. His skin was porcelain and delicate. You wouldn’t notice at a distance, he was nearly breaking through his uniform with those muscles, comical really, but he was truly beautiful. He smirked when he saw me, striding up to my table like he was god’s gift.

My mouth was dry, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did, a few months ago.”

His face slacked for a moment. He lost his flair, his presence, his eyes widened, his mouth opened. Apparently that had not been what he expected. He muttered, “You’re welcome.”

I smiled at him, “I haven’t forgotten our deal. I am yours, for a month. I want to start now.”

Another delightful look of surprise. “Okay,” he said, before grabbing my left arm and tugging. A small noise escaped me. He released my hand immediately and looked at me for a moment, “Sorry,” he mumbled, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. I’m fine. Without another word he grabbed my right arm and pulled me into an employee area, a dark stairwell. He pressed me against the door, his hands on my hips and his mouth on mine. I couldn’t tell if I was uncomfortable or aroused. My dick responded either way, he didn’t touch it though. And apart from his hands pinning me to the wall, he didn’t touch me. He didn’t try to press his tongue into my mouth, or his body against mine.  I didn’t get the thrill of his warmth or his weight. His kiss, however, was still an inferno. Like he was a playful nymph that could turn people horny, just by touching them.

After what had to be less than five minutes, pulled off of me and pushed me out the door. My hard on was abundantly obvious, but no one was there. I rushed into the bathroom, also empty, and rubbed one out. Make no mistake, I was humiliated by that event. Part of me hated him already for doing that to me. The other part of me just wanted to feel his lips on mine once more, and those big strong hands of his all over my body.

When I finally got back to my table, the waitress had brought my usual, risotto with a diet coke. Tucked under the plate was a note with an address and the words “Be there at noon sharp.”


	6. Unrealized Kink

I did as commanded, showing up in casual clothes to blend in with the area. The address led me to an apartment complex in the poorest part of the city. I knew what homeless people were, however, this was my first time walking past them. I’ve never felt so guilty about my status before. I was also thankful that I didn’t wear my good shoes. Between the homeless and a few sketchy looking groups in the nearby alleyways, I was sure that the slightest sign of wealth would leave me at their mercy. Even with casual clothes, it seemed that I stuck out a little. Perhaps that was just my own self-absorbed paranoia.  

I trudged up the seven flights of stairs to reach his apartment. He was talking to someone when I arrived, a beautiful blonde woman with a motherly smile. “Here he comes now,” said my soon-to-be master, she turned and gave me a sympathetic smile.

“You’re in for a rough month,” She patted my head as she walked passed. I watched her disappear into the apartment next door, the remnants on her touch still in my hair. His voice cleared behind me, I turned around to see his disapproving stare.

“Stay away from her. She’s too good for you.” There was a simultaneous sadness and exhilaration in my chest. His words, his tone, they did something to me. He ushered me inside before handing me an apron and gloves. “Clean the place up, I want it spotless.” While his back was turned I googled how to wash dishes by hand and mop the floor. I worked harder than I ever have in my life, fueled by an inner panic that if he wasn’t pleased…I would be screwed. Thankfully, his place wasn’t filthy, there were unwashed clothes, dirty dishes, and some clutter, but overall it was clean. No dust bunnies to be found, nothing rotting. I was finished in less than two hours.

When he saw my work, he was oddly kind. Praising me and handing me a soda, as I reached out to grab it, he pulled he forward, his lips meeting mine. I leaned into him and let him wrap his arms around me, he felt strong and powerful. I was light in his arms, his tongue swiped across my mouth and I opened to him. I submitted to him instantly, letting him explore my mouth with his tongue and my body with his hands. It was nice, feeling completely out of control. There was no corporate veneer in our actions, no pressed shirts and unflattering slacks. Nothing about our kiss felt rehearsed or on display. There was no pressure for me, he made it very clear with his rough groping that I was to simply breathe, he would take care of the rest.

I was hard in a matter of seconds and he laughed. Embarrassing. He refused to touch me, “On all fours in front of the couch.” I was nervous, a blushing virgin. I couldn’t let him know that, I didn’t know what he’d do. I did as I was told, waiting for his next order. He came up and snaked his hands under my shirt. His hands were calloused and rough against my soft trust-fund skin. I shivered as he traced my spine, ready for whatever he had prepared next. To my surprise and dismay, he stopped touching me, turned on Judge Judy and used me as a foot rest.

This should have been humiliating. I should have hated every moment. Instead, I found myself relishing his use of me. I may have been furniture, but he was happy with me. To this day I still don’t know why it means so much to me, but being of use to him was intoxicating. I was hard for a good hour, even as my body trembled to maintain the position.

Once my arms started to give out he let me up. He pulled me into his lap and nuzzled my neck, my body tingled and itched for more. How did he do that, and continue to do that to me? What is it about him that undoes everything I am? He kissed my neck, working his way up to my ear as I let out a breathy sigh. “I’ve been watching you for years, Jake English, prissy boy from a rich family. I’ve been working at that place for three years, I worked on your birthday celebrations, I watched you study while your dad played cards. Do you remember last summer? You and your idiot friends teased my brother at the pool. You pulled his pants down in front of a girl he liked. You will pay for that.” I was alarmed, but there was a sultriness in his voice that I couldn’t resist. “From now on you will call me Mr. Strider and do everything I say until this month is up, got it?”

“Yeah.” I whispered. “I understand.

“Good.”


	7. Oh my

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m actually spending the day trying to finish the story. I only have a mandatory 1800 words left, although I think I might go over that a little. Lots of porn coming soon, because that’s what this whole story is leading up to. Well, that and some drama. This part is really short, so I thought I’d send it out early.
> 
> Also, this is a critique based story. I’m writing it specifically to get better at my craft. Anything you want to comment about it is welcome.

I arrived at his place, noon sharp, every day. He would hand me a list of chores to do, I’m pretty sure he messed up the house just so I would have to clean it all up again. I think he was trying to make me feel lesser.  Maybe he viewed it, at least partially, as knocking me off my proverbial high horse. However, the chores were far from demeaning. Few realize that my grandmother was a cleaning lady for most of her life. My grandfather didn’t make it big until his forties. As I grew up, I went to private school, and yes, I had never picked up a sponge before that first day at Mr. Strider’s. Still, my grandmother taught me to never look down on our cleaning staff, they worked hard and made a respectable living, and there was no shame in that.

I think my rather plucky attitude threw Mr. Strider off, he kept giving an increasing level of work that was, for lack of a better term, dirty. Still, I charged forward. And when I was doing very well, concentrating on my tasks, sometimes, he would come up behind me a pinch my ass. Sometimes, I would purposely stick my ass in his way and he would slap it. This odd flirting, had replaced the impromptu kisses that he lavished on me my first day. He seemed to pointedly keep his distance, and by the end of my first week, he seemed to have lost any sexual interest in me altogether. I was disappointed.

After mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors, as well as steam cleaning the carpets in the second bedroom and living room; I was ready to start my final task for the day, cleaning his own personal room while he directed me in every way. I was expecting jizz covered porn magazines, crusted food containers, dirty laundry, and a pervading odor…I was given something far better.

By this time, I had given up on anything romantic. It was clear that what my friends and I did to his brother had left a wound that only festered with time. While I was attracted to him, I knew that my feelings wouldn’t be returned, regardless of whether he felt anything for me or not.

 I opened his door without knocking and was met with the sight of his huge phallus in his hand as he laid on his bed, eyes closed, with soft whispers passing over his lips.

All he spoke, repeatedly, was my name.


	8. Blow Jobs for Dorks

His cock was large and thick, his tip slick with precum. He was thinking of me while jacking off, I had never been more turned on in my life than that moment. Although, I have had MUCH more erotic situations since, but we’ll get there. My mouth watered and I don’t know what fucking came over me, but I grew some balls and grabbed his wrist. He flinched, his eyes flying open and he looked at me, a mixture of horror, satisfaction, and anger. “What the fuck are you doing? You should have knocked.”

He looked like he was ready to punch me, probably more from embarrassment that actual anger. In response, I fell to my knees and thought of line from some porn I watched the week before. “I want to help my master.” The look on his face was downright predatory. He sat up and I opened my mouth to taste him.  I was stopped by a fist in my hair, pulling me back.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to help my master.” I tried my best to sound wanton and was rewarded with a pitiful look from him. He wanted me so badly, it made every nerve in my body alight. My hair stood on end.

“Seriously, Jake, you don’t have to do this. This isn’t part of our deal. Slave for a month didn’t include sexual favors.”

I met his gaze and responded, “I want to taste you.”

“Fuck.” He sighed as he released my hair and let me put his cock in my mouth. I wasn’t at all experienced in oral sex. I drooled and gagged, the taste was both overwhelmed and slightly unpleasant. Still, Mr. Strider was kind to me. He petted my hair, told me how good I was, how good I looked. Yeah, he was really kind…and understanding. Even when I choked he was patient, telling me to breathe and take my time. When I could finally take him entirely in my throat he moaned “Good boy.” I was rock hard by this time, softly stroking my own arousal. His dick in my throat was an unusual experience, but one that I enjoyed and would enjoy many times.

When he neared his climax he pushed me off, he tried to cover his spray, but came too quickly and spurted cum all over my face. I remember groaning and shaking, overcome with emotion and overwhelmed with sensation. I hadn’t finished, but couldn’t touch myself either. I just needed a moment. “Shit.” I heard Mr. Strider say. He grabbed some tissues by his bed and gently wiped my face clean. My eyes were unfocused, but I vaguely remember him noticing my predicament. He whispered in my ear, “Can I touch you? Can I suck you?” I nodded and he eased me onto my back, kissing me with an enthusiastic care. My pants were pulled down until I was exposed, he traced circles on my hip, making me squirm. “You really want this, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I moaned, almost crying. Everything was good and sweet, overwhelming and desperate. I just wanted to come. He took all of me on his first try. He bobbed his head, using his tongue to swipe across my slit. I didn’t have anywhere near the same control he did. I came in his mouth.

He ate my cum and licked the remnants off my body and his chin. I’m not proud of it, but I cried afterword. He held me, apologizing over and over. He thought he had done something wrong. He didn’t want to hurt me.

….He never means to hurt me. He’s not that twisted. ….Huh…..

I told him I was okay. After holding me for another hour he told me to go home. I arrived early the next day; craving his touch.


	9. Make Me Filthy

When he opened the door he handed me a list of chores, the same as usual. I tried to meet his gaze, to gain the courage I had yesterday. I wanted to ask him what we were. Instead, I kept my head down and performed my duties.

I finished early, he didn’t messy the house the way he did before. He was on the phone ordering pizza, ignoring me when I said I was finished. I sat down, taking a piece of pizza without asking, I could tell he was watching me from the corner of his eye.

Trying to break the tension and possibly any reservations he had about us, I apologized. “I asked my friends about your brother. I didn’t remember it at all. They did, apparently….there was even video.” I felt his gaze heat and anger dripped off of him. “I told them to delete it. As far as I know it wasn’t posted anywhere. If it ever turns up though, let me know. I’ll owe your brother some settlement money, my parents will pay it, no problem.” I turned to him, trying to meet his gaze, which he refused to help with.  I swallowed, feeling the courage rise in me, I’m not sure if it was truly mine, or the desperate need I felt to have him. “I’ll do anything you want to make amends. I’ll apologize, privately or publicly. I’ll pay for his books, or tuition. I’ll be his slave for a year if you want. I’ll do anything if you just answer me one question truthfully.” His gaze finally met mine, it was softer than before, a need peeked out between the forced anger and posturing. “Is there anything between us?” A vague question he could take however he wanted. If he took it literally, made a joke, I would never ask him again. If he admitted it, but didn’t want to act on it any further I would respect his decision. If he wanted to act on it, but wanted to make it part of our agreement, as a trial period, I would let him use me in any way he wanted. He is the only person that I’ve ever felt relaxed around. I don’t have to act according to the uptight rules of my class. I can be dirty with him. I can be free with him.

He didn’t answer, he just kissed me. Soft lips against mine as hands cradled my head. His touch was like feathers, dusting for someone else’s prints. He wouldn’t find any. I was a virgin, too caught up in family politics to ever have more than an orchestrated date with someone that would improve my parent’s social standing. He pulled away, kissing my forehead before fully retreating. My stomach fluttered and I moaned, blushing. Affection like this was nearly as intimate and unusual for me as sucking his cock. I looked up at his face, he too had a soft blush, and he spoke with a broken whisper. “You don’t have to do this. I can’t guarantee you’ll be okay with me. I’m not going to lie to you with false promises of care and consideration. I won’t tell you that I cherish you. I have a lot of fucked up sexual preferences. And if we do this now…I want to play with you in a way that you may not like. This will blur the lines, Jake.” I didn’t care, there was no pressure there. His touches were like honey and they stuck to my skin long after he was gone. “I like to humiliate Jake, and treat you as property or as my own personal toy during sex. It’s part of my fucked up nature.”

I kissed him, because that’s exactly what I wanted; somewhere safe to feel embarrassed, to be ridiculed and used. I wanted my only function to be for him. I didn’t want to think about my own life anymore. My parents hadn’t noticed my absences, I came home every day to paper work and fliers for things that would make them look good; like charities they didn’t care about and galas meant solely for conspicuous consumption. I was tired of it.

He dominated my mouth, forcing me onto me back, his hands groped all over me. I couldn’t control the noise I made. I didn’t want to control the noise I made. I heard a pop and opened my eyes, a lube bottle in his hand and a hesitant look in his eyes. “I can’t stress this enough, Jake, you don’t have to do this.”

“Just be gentle, please. It’s…uh…my first time.” I couldn’t look at him, but his gaze raked shame across my flesh. He placed tender kisses all over my body, overwhelming me. I was hard and sobbing into my arm, ashamed of my emotions. He kept whispering reassurances in me ear, I think he was turned on by my tears.  He prodded and stretched me, taking his time. He forced my mouth open and stuck his tongue down my throat, to taste me. My fingers threaded through his hair, his soft, orange scented hair. “AH!” I squeaked when he found my prostate. The gleam in his eye was that of a devious demon, ready to trade a little pleasure for my soul. I was his to take. When he pressed in again, rubbing it and abusing it until I felt my balls tighten and climax imminent. He pulled away, making me sob more. He licked the tears off my face, telling me I was a good boy. I would get my reward soon.

It didn’t hurt when he entered me, he checked in constantly too. I remember moaning “I’m alright, I feel good.” Because he was worried mid-thrust that he was hurting me. He called me trash and then apologized, but I liked it. I wanted to be filth. I didn’t want to be anything but his slave.

A sexual catharsis, that was my need for him. I enjoyed every bit of it and I only had two weeks left as his slave.


	10. Use Me / Fuck Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter next week! It might be a little late because I’m second guessing the ending a little. I have the option of leaving it open ended or giving a clear end to it. And I haven’t really decided on which yet.

The next week was spent with non-stop sex and I enjoyed every second of it. When I showed up the next day, he gave me a new uniform, a maid outfit with a skirt that didn’t cover anything. I was to clean things in a precise order. When I got to the dishes, he appeared behind me. He kissed my neck and pressed his erection against. He grinded against me, called me filthy little things like “My little slut” and “My fuck toy.” He bent me over, my chest in the sink, while he pulled my hair and took me from behind. I trembled in stiletto heels, moaning for him as he slapped my ass.

When he finished he pulled me up and kiss me hard, his load still in my ass, dripping down my legs. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy with you.” I broke down in tears and he held me close, rocking me as his cum dried on my legs and the floor. He handed me a washcloth to clean myself, instructing me where to wipe and when to rinse the cloth. He always said “Thank you” and “Good Job.” I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. It’s an odd thing, praise. When you don’t have it most of your life, because you’re held “to a higher standard,” the sound of it, when it hits your ears for the first time, and so often, it’s like a drug. Praise for me, had become an addiction. I would do anything Mr. Strider wanted, if he would just tell me I was good.

The week continued and he did a lot to me. He strapped me to the bed, teased me and edged me until I broke. He licked my tears from my cheeks and told me “just a little more.” It was another hour before I was allowed to come. I didn’t know I had been recorded until the next day, when he made me watch it, while I was impaled on his lap, filled with a thick cock that clouded my mind into something that was slow and gooey. Regardless of how desperate I was, I always felt good in his arms.

My favorite moment was only a few days ago. He wanted me to dust the whole apartment. I couldn’t crouch either, I had to bend at the waist. When he could see my hole, he stuck a finger inside me, massaging my prostate while he told me how pretty I looked. He did this several times. He hid under his desk so he could suck me as I dusted. His fingers crept around and entered me, his tongue touched my balls, and when I got close he pulled everything away and made me drop to my hands and knees. His hands snaked under my uniform, refusing to touch any of my sensitive areas. Instead, he traced my spine and brushed my hair aside with his lubed up fingers. It was wonderfully disgusting and degrading. I begged for him and he pulled out his cock. He pressed the tip against my lips and I did my amateur best to please him. He held my face, stroking my cheek as he watched me fill my mouth with cock. After I had taken him in as far as I could go, he told me to stick my tongue out as far as I could. I managed to reach his base and he _moaned_ for me, I don’t think I’ve ever had a prouder moment. He pulled me off him and fucked my ass until I screamed.

Monday of the final week, things escalated. He was taking our play to new levels. He told me to wash his window, which faced nothing more than a brick wall. Midway through, he stopped me, opened it, and bent me over the opening, fucking me so everyone could hear my moans. When I finished, he dragged me to the living room, throwing his curtains open, people in the building across the street could see us. He tied me up and fucked me near the window, his cock vibrating inside me, a new toy of his. When he finished, I finally looked out the window, the people had closed their curtains and my body burned with shame. I was reinvigorated by his praise. He licked me clean and told me I was perfect.

Tuesday, he took me to a club, a place where a lot of people were performing sexual acts. He told me he was going to fuck me on stage, it was already arranged. I was scared, incredibly uncomfortable. He noticed and held me, “If you don’t want to do this, or if you want to stop halfway through, just say ‘red,’ okay?” I nodded and he took me backstage. He tied me to a chair and whispered naughty things in my ear. He told me his plan, how he would suck me until I was close and then masturbate until he came on me. He said he would force me off my chair and make me suck a dildo for him and spank me until I came. If it didn’t work, he would finger me. He did everything he said he would, and I came from the spanking alone. People clapped, I was humiliated and I couldn’t decide if I liked it at that level or not.

Wednesday, he took me to the mall, a chastity belt keeping my cock in place and a vibrator in my ass. He played with it, made me try on clothes and shop for appliances, like we moved in together. At one point, we were in housewares in Macy’s, it was dead, and he ramped the vibrator up to its highest level. I was nearing my climax as a sales assistant rounded the corner, I looked at him and told him “red.” The vibrator shut off instantly, he took me to the bathroom, into a handicap stall, and helped me remove the vibrator. I wanted to leave the chastity belt on. Once we were done in the bathroom, he held me close, never letting go of my hand until we made it back to the car.

He…really watched out for me in that moment. He looked really upset when we sat down. He pressed a tender kiss against my lips and apologized. …And drove back to his house as quickly as he could. He helped me out of the belt, never touching my half hard dick. Instead, he pulled me into a hug and held me for a long time, petting my hair, kissing my forehead. I was still horny and had calmed down enough that the tension between my legs needed taking care of. I stroked myself a little, just to relieve the unbearable tightness. He kissed my lips and looked into my eyes, “Please,” he said, “Let me do that.” I nodded, he wrapped his hand around me, jacking me off. “You were so good. Such a champ. You deserve this, you deserve everything.” I writhed against him and he gave a breathy moan “Jake.”

I…I think I made a mistake.


	11. The Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This last part is late from my usual weekly posts because I couldn’t decided between two endings. I hope you like it.
> 
> Also: OMG I forgot to post this here. Sorry to all who were waiting!

After giving me a day to recover, Mr. Strider asked if I would indulge him one last time before our arrangement was up. There was one thing he’d always wanted to do to a partner, but never had the chance. Was I really in any position to say no?

I spent today on a bus traveling from the beginning of the bus line to the very end, standing, with a vibrating prostate stimulator up my ass and no chastity belt. Dirk would sit nearby by, watching me from afar so we were less likely to get caught. Since it was my last day, I had my messenger bag with me, complete with Id and a long hoodie. As the line started off, Dirk and I took our positions in the back of the bus.

For the first couple of stops, he didn’t do anything, I thought maybe my participation was enough for him, but when the bus was full, and the driver was turning people away to wait for the next bus, he started it. I gasped, trying to cover it with a cough, I looked around and couldn’t see him with so many people and their bags crowding my vision. I couldn’t even see a window from where I was. I became anxious and tried to focus on the situation, rather than the activity in my pants. I thought of dead people, my grandmother, starving children, ANYTHING to keep my mind wandering to the buzzing inside me and the memories of my last week with Mr. Strider. He seemed to enjoy watching me work to keep my composure, from wherever he was. I think he might have switched seats at some point.

Once we reached the halfway point the vibrations picked up another notch. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning. My cock was hard and leaking at this point. I desperately tried to cover my erection with my bag and prayed no one could see.  Fishing my phone out of my bag, I was sure if I texted him the safe word he would stop. My hands shook as I tried to juggle staying upright, hiding my hard on and sending a message. I sent a mix of letters, not resembling “Red” in the slightest, but I hoped he would understand. The pleasure was overwhelming, I could barely contain my gasps and stifle my moans. I lamented ever taking this fucking deal. I should have never cheated.

He never stopped.

At this point we were down to the final quarter of route. I survived forty-five minutes of this stunt. Just a little more. At least that’s what I thought, it seemed like every stop took longer and we were hitting every light. The buzzing reached its maximum point. I turned, frantic to find Mr. Strider. Most of the people were gone, I spotted him, but his head was down (Which even now I don’t understand, this was for his enjoyment). I watched hoping with all my might that he would look up.

He didn’t.

I whispered, “Red.” The buzzing against my prostate and my panic mixing into what, in other circumstances, would have been an amazing agony. At that moment, I was on the verge of tears, about to burst. My breathing was labored; I knew my face was bright red. It felt like people were staring at me. “Red.” I said a little louder.

It still did not catch his attention.

I was about to scream it, when the bus jerked, and instead I just screamed. The bus doors opened, the second to last stop. I ran out, Dirk ran after me. He grabbed my arm, but I shook it off. I stared at him with the most anger I could muster, “I hate you. You disgusting kinky bastard!” I covered the growing stain on pants with my bag, flipped him off and made it to the nearest public restroom. Failing to make any improvements on my pants, I took out the hoodie, it covered most of the stains. I sat down at the nearest park bench, opened up this tumblr app, and started a new blog where I chose to spill my guts before he can. When I started this, I was done, ready to throw in the towel on my future and spend my life hating a one, Dirk Strider.

Now that I’ve had a chance to type all this out though, and relive the better moments. Dirk has been actively trying NOT to hurt me. He has been cautious and pampered me and respected my wishes on nearly every account. He tried to avoid this very circumstance. I…was mean to him. I should go talk to him. Tell him I’m sorry, that I over-reacted. The internet is a lot of things, but I never considered it cathartic. I’m going to mark this as a private blog for the time being, if I ever post this story about the past six months of my life, it means I’ve accepted it and I own it. If you managed to read this far, you know the full story. Maybe you think Dirk is sick, maybe you think I’m a little snowflake who doesn’t deserve what I have. Regardless, I think you’ll agree that Dirk deserves a chance to explain himself and maybe even an apology.

Wish me luck.


End file.
